


re-sheathe

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Victor's Secret, dominant omega!finch, penis sheath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the week leading up to heat, John's resting heart beat is just a tad quicker, he feels that extra spring in his step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	re-sheathe

**Author's Note:**

> [Penis sleeves](http://archiveofourown.org/works/782289) and A/B/O: two great tastes that taste great together :D?
> 
> my thanks to sky for betaing <333

On the week leading up to heat, John's resting heart beat is just a tad quicker, he feels that extra spring in his step.

He can't smell anything on Harold, who keeps himself tightly buttoned both figuratively and literally. He knows it's coming even so, feels the changes in his own body, an automatic synchronized response to signals Harold is emitting at levels even he can't control.

For most people, those signals would be impossible to detect, but John is attuned to Harold. It's more than his alpha instincts, more even than the closeness they've developed. 

John doesn't know what it is that makes him so keenly _aware_ but he likes it, likes the way his dick strains against his sheath, knot trying to plump up under restrictive fabric.

Harold notices, and his eyebrows rise almost imperceptibly. "Are you quite comfortable, Mr. Reese?"

John smirks at him. "Perfectly."

"We have a full day in front of us," Harold says mildly. "Be sure you don't become distracted."

John leans close. He doesn't even try to be subtle about scenting Harold, letting the familiar, beloved smell fill his senses. Harold doesn't smell like omega at all: he smells like himself, and to John, it's perfect. "Are you planning on distracting me, Harold?"

"Behave," Harold says sternly, but John catches the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

They actually do pretty well that day. The numbers are clear cut for once, no nasty surprises or difficult choices. Only people who have made bad decisions, and John - occasionally with the assistance of his firearm - makes them reconsider.

When John gets back to the library, he finds Harold tidying up. "I believe we'd better go," Harold says, tucking his laptop into its case. "It hasn't started, but it should be a matter of hours, now."

John follows him wordlessly down the stairs and into the car. Harold lets him drive.

~~

John is kneeling by the side of the bed. He has Harold's legs draped over his shoulders, his hands carefully holding Harold in a position that's both comfortable and accessible to John's mouth.

Harold had good timing: heat struck just after John had dinner. (Harold wasn't hungry. If John weren't so attuned to him, the fact that Harold stopped eating yesterday might have clued him in.) It gave them plenty of time to undress, hang their clothes carefully in place.

Of course, John still has his sheath on. Harold started choosing his sheaths for him after the second heat they spent together. The new style is incredibly comfortable, even as the tight fabric prevents John from knotting, but it's a bitch to undo while he's hard.

That's fine. Harold will take it off him later.

For now, John focuses on making Harold wet, licking him gently. It takes a while for Harold to open up. Even though Harold tries not to complain, John sees his frustration with himself, with the difficulty his own body presents.

To say John doesn't mind would be an understatement.

When Harold finally loosens fractionally, just enough for John to ease the tip of his tongue inside, John's satisfaction is immeasurable. Part of it is accomplishment. Most of it is Harold.

In these intimate circumstances, Harold does smell like omega. It combines with the everyday scent of him into something powerfully compelling, everything John has ever wanted right here under his nose. It makes patience easy, even as his hard cock futilely strains.

Harold grows slowly slicker under John's mouth. The muscles in his thighs and stomach tense and release, but he makes no sound. His hands run fretfully in John's short hair, the light touch sending pleasing tingles down John's spine.

A well-placed lick gets Harold to twitch and gush, and John blissfully opens his mouth, drinking him in, before sealing his mouth around Harold's opening and sucking.

"Good," Harold says, just barely audible.

The single word reverberates in John's ears. He keeps going, high on sensation and heat and _Harold_ , until he feels an insistent tug on his hair.

At Harold's direction, John lies over him, still carefully bracing Harold's hips. He nudges the head of his cock against Harold's entrance, shuddering at how _hot_ Harold is running. "Okay?" John's voice feels gritty in his mouth, rusty with misuse.

"Yes," Harold says, and John enters him.

Not all the way. He still has his sheath on, although the hood tethering it to his thigh has been undone. That leaves John with the head and upper half of his cock exposed, the bottom half still covered up. He stares at himself pulling out of Harold, the contrast of his red, wet dick against the pristine white cloth of the sheath. He thinks Harold would approve.

Only a few thrusts later, Harold says, "John, I'd like your attention."

John hasn't been told to stop, so he doesn't, but he does look up from Harold's straining cock. John wants it in his mouth, but that will probably wait for later.

"On the count of three," Harold says, "I want you to pull out. One. Two...."

Just before _three_ , John has this moment of vertigo, a sudden certainty that he won't. Nobody would expect an alpha to pull out of an omega in heat. It's supposed to be literally biologically impossible.

"Three," Harold says, and John pulls out.

The very feeling of air on his cock almost hurts after the beautiful heat inside Harold. John stifles a whimper.

Then he lets it out anyway when Harold takes his still-sheathed cock in his sure hand.

"I could take the sheath off now," Harold says, conversationally. "But I don't think that's necessary, John, do you?"

John can't talk anymore. He can only shake his head helplessly and watch his dick slide in and out of Harold's fist. John's been told he's big even for an alpha, and it leaves plenty of room for Harold's hand to work, even if he's avoiding contact with the sheathed area.

Coming knotless is a recent experience for John. He's surprised how much he loves it: the control Harold has over his body, the way they conspire to defy biology. 

An expert twist of Harold's wrist, and John's losing it, spurting all over Harold's hand. Even the frustration of it, the way it leaves him raw and only wanting to come again as soon as possible, feels good.

Harold never leaves him unsatisfied for long.

John watches as Harold neatly strokes John's come inside himself. Something about the pheromones helping him open up more completely - John doesn't know, he generally loses the thread at this point of conversation. Harold has an expression of concentration, a little line in the center of his forehead that John kisses on a whim.

It startles Harold into smiling at him. He takes John's hand, wordlessly directing him to finger Harold.

This part is nice. John settles with his chest to Harold's back, working him slowly open. He starts with two fingers, quickly moving up to three. Adding a fourth takes longer. John nuzzles the skin behind Harold's ear, whispers, "Let me in?"

"I'm trying," Harold says, cross. He sighs and brushes the side of his mouth against John's forehead, the closest he can come to kissing any part of John from this position. "Hm. Now?"

John's pinky enters Harold with barely any effort. He's dripping now, making a mess of the sheets. John half wants to go back to starting position, taste his own come and Harold's slick mingled.

Then Harold says, "Let me take off your sheath," and there is nothing in the world but Harold's deft fingers undoing the buttons, one by one, and then John is _in_.

All of him.

The first white-hot rush of penetration soon subsides. John is absolutely still until Harold, still sounding vaguely annoyed, says, "Move."

John moves.

He fucks into Harold in long, deep thrusts that make Harold's breath catch and hitch. He strokes Harold's cock with the same rhythm, lingering at the head, until Harold makes an undignified noise.

John himself is long past dignity. His erection never went down at all - the sheath acting like a cock ring around his half-formed knot - and he's mouthing Harold's neck and his shoulders in moves too sloppy to be called kisses, too gentle to be called bites.

Harold is about to come. It's obvious from the way he tenses, the sound of his breaths, the way he's unbearably wet and soft around John. 

That softness lasts until the first spurt of come out of Harold's cock. Then Harold clenches and locks down, tightening around John's knot like a steel fist.

It's not like the sheath, though. The lock is moving, rolling pressure, milking John's come out of him with ruthless efficiency, leaving him gasping, unable to form words or even thoughts.

It keeps going for a while after John has stopped coming. John screws his eyes shut and breathes through it, tingling all over as his knot is mercilessly squeezed. Harold's body takes a while to get started but once it does, it's impossible to stop, making demands that John falls over himself to meet. 

John doesn't soften. _Can't_ , not balls deep in an omega in heat. In Harold. His body musters up round three in sheer self-defense. 

His knot hasn't gone down, and as soon as Harold unlocks around him, John eases himself out. Then, carefully, pushes back in, making Harold loose a stream of hissed curses. John smiles against the back of his neck and gently chides, "Language."

"I'd like to see how you react to being fucked with a knotted cock, Mr. Reese," Harold says, diction as neat as ever, belying the hot mess he is below the waist. 

John shudders helplessly. Harold _could_ , is the thing. If he wants to see John spread his legs and take it like a bitch, like an _omega_ , he just has to ask. John would do it, and be happy to do it.

Harold's hand closes lightly over John's wrist. "Now, I think," Harold murmurs. John pushes deep inside him, trembling as Harold locks around him again.

"I do appreciate your stamina," Harold says, slightly out of breath. John struggles not to whimper.

This is just the beginning: John knows that, by now. He's expecting the downtime he gets to be brief, expecting the ruthless, demanding pull of Harold's body before John's quite recovered.

He's not expecting Harold getting bored in that brief downtime, though in hindsight he should have.

"I really should have brought a laptop," Harold says, shifting restlessly.

John makes a choked off noise, recovering with, "Way to make a guy feel special, Harold."

"Oh, hush," Harold says irritably, "you know you are." He takes John's hand and kisses it, absently. "I don't suppose you could think of some other occupation while we're forcibly attached...?"

John grunts, shifting inside Harold, which gets him the laser focus of Harold's attention again.

"I suppose I can work with what's on hand," Harold says thoughtfully, thumbing John's nipple until it perks up. John groans, his knot throbbing, which makes Harold contract ruthlessly around him again.

"Yes," Harold says, shifting minutely up and down. "If we're doing this, we may as well be thorough."

~~

John spends the rest of the heat fucking Harold, never pulling out all the way. That's SOP. Harold really does believe in thoroughness, in efficiency. They only have so long before the next time a phone rings, even if the Machine does try to adjust itself for the weakness of its human assets.

Harold's heat breaks just after sundown, his body shuddering in one last long climax before going molten and limp in John's arms. They lie together, unmoving when John's knot subsides. The bed is damn near uninhabitable - there isn't a wet spot, there's a _lake_ \- but for now, John doesn't care.

He still kinda wants to go eat Harold out, but another round just might kill him at this point.

Instead, he waits until he has his breath and heart rate back to normal and gets up to shower. On the bed Harold snores softly, oblivious to the wet linens surrounding him. Heat takes a lot out of a guy.

The shower starts again while John's making dinner. John smiles, pleased with his timing. When Harold gets out, pajama clad and wet behind the ears, John can slide a steaming omelette right into his plate.

Harold takes a small bite and makes a happy noise. "Thank you, Mr. Reese," he says after swallowing. "It's delicious."

Probably that's just post-heat munchies talking, but John feels warmed even so.

~~

Harold likes to put John's sheath on himself after heats. "The hormonal changes can cause shape and size to fluctuate," he says, fiddling with the exact fit. "There's no need for anything to pinch because you won't adjust the band size correctly."

John spreads his legs and lets Harold fiddle with his equipment. He's not gonna say no to Harold's hands on his dick, even if they're buttoning the sheath closed, bringing him back into confinement.

Harold looks up at John with a small frown. "It is comfortable, isn't it?" he says, a little anxious. 

John kisses him. "It's perfect," he says, letting sincerity radiate off him in waves. 

It seems to reach its goal. Harold relaxes, gives John a tiny smile and draws him into a kiss. He does John's shirt buttons, too, "Otherwise you leave the top two undone, and while looking like a space pirate suits you, it's hardly professional."

As soon as Harold's back is turned, John undoes his three top buttons, grinning like a shark.


End file.
